The End Of All Comfort

"We live on the future: "tomorrow," "later on," "when you have made your way," "you will understand when you are old enough."  Such irrelevancies are wonderful, for, after all, it's a matter of dying.  Yet a day comes when a man notices or says that he is thirty.  Thus he asserts his youth.  But simultaneously he situates himself in relation to time.  He takes his place in it.  He admits that he stands at a certain point on a curve that he acknowledges having to travel to its end.  He belongs to time, and by the horror that seizes him, he recognizes his worst enemy.  Tomorrow, he was longing for tomorrow, whereas everything in him ought to reject it.  That revolt of the flesh is the absurd."
Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus - "Absurd Walls"



The thing about inspiration, for me, is that, above being fleeting and completely aloof, it's also overwhelming.  I've had the pleasure of the revitalization of my writing bug as of late. What has been latent for years has surged back and I'm happy to say that I've been taking advantage of it.  I've been making progress on a piece that I've been kicking around for most of my adult life.  In fact, among the many public networking sites that have come and gone, you may have seen bits and pieces from me of a work called 'The End Of All Comfort.'  For the most part it's been nonsensical ramblings and unrelated texts.  I now have a pretty clear vision for it and hope to have, at least, a novella out of it.
The downside, to this sudden spark, is that I've also imagined another piece that I'm  pretty excited about and have nearly fully mapped out.  I've begun getting as much of it down as I can.  The problem I'm having is one of focus.  There's no lack of content.  On the one hand I have a semi-autobiographical piece that's been in my head for a decade, and on the other I have a fresh new piece with characters that I'm really excited about.  Both of these books deal with the absurd and both have references to Camus' 'The Myth Of Sisyphus' (more so the latter) which I'm now in the process of rereading.
I'm very excited about what's taking place and I hope to have something tangible come from it.  Being diligent and staying on task is something I know will have to be forced at times.  I know that of myself, once inspiration is gone, I have no will to touch anything that I was once so very excited about.


What is it that drives a man, self confident and commanding, who at once finds himself compelled to retreat?  To retire to his bed and spend the foreseeable future swaddled within those blankets amid take-out boxes and remote controls? Only at the next moment to be driven out by the ever-gnawing fact that his days are indeed numbered and that he is hurdling towards his demise; or even more daunting, the end of his eligibility to take part in the carnal aspects of the human comedy: a fate much worse than death.  And one that ultimately leads a man to welcome Death's outreaching hand. 
And now with this woman. This girl.  I do love her.  Everyone loves her.  But what business do I have with her?  She is not for me.  She is for a much simpler man.  Not one that could appreciate her more because, no, I don't think the man I'm referring to is capable of such a thing.  But she needs a man more carefree than I.  One not so weighed down by invisible circumstance, constantly throwing around words like Farce and Futility when referring to existence.  I will bring this woman down.  That smile.  That cheery disposition that attracts me, that attracts all to her, would be worn down by me.  By the books I'd have her read.  The films I'd take her to see.  Even the morning discussion over breakfast as I'm reading my paper and disheartened by it all.  So shall she be.  I would jade her.  This gem's luster would fade under my care and I could not forgive myself for that.  
 - The End Of All Comfort

Shame (2011)

Sometimes when I'm really excited about something I begin to stress out about dying before I get to enjoy it. It's very morbid, I know.  When I was a kid it was always Christmas or my birthday.  I thought about something unforeseen happening to me and never getting to know what gifts I got. I was a selfish little bastard. A death-consumed selfish little bastard.

My current worry is that I'll never get to see the movie Shame:

Shame UK Trailer from Transmission Films on Vimeo.

I just love the scoring of that trailer.
Dropping in on the official site you can see that the limited release showings have already ended nearly a month ago and that they've not come to any town in Ohio.
Affluence. Commitment issues. Gentlemanly endeavors amongst polite society.  Dirty secrets and internal conflict.  Shame.  This has all the makings of a film I'll be watching dozens of times much like Elegy which my viewings of, by now, would have to be in the high 20s.  This movie looks like American Psycho with sex addiction in place of psychotic  bloodlust. Right down my alley.  I fear that I'm setting myself up for disappointment but if it's half as good as I suspect (and as the reviews say it is) it will at least be a good watch. The wait alone is doing nothing to alleviate the hype.

The Kissing Entry

I can't watch people kiss.  Ever.  In person or on screen. That's a small tidbit about me.  Whenever, on film, the characters are going in for that lip-lock I have to look away.  But often that is not enough because more than seeing the kiss taking place I'm completely compelled to shudder at that canned lip smacking sound effect that usually accompanies the act.  I know it's not logical and I'm sure it goes back to some maladjustment in my formative years but it is what it is.  I am disgusted by couples who insist on publicly forcing their affections on innocent bystanders.  'Making out' outside of any secluded area is absolutely uncalled for and, in my opinion, in poor taste.  If it weren't a means to an end I wouldn't want to do it myself on most occasions.  I'm not a very endearing man.

I say all of this because of the following.  I shared this song last year on Valentines day and now, after a formal album release of Hall Music, Loney Dear has a video for this lovely song.  This is one of at least two videos.  The other that I've seen is completely ineffectual for the tone of the song and I'd dismissed it completely.  This one is very fitting and although it's one that I won't likely watch again (due to the aforementioned offense), it's fitting for the season.

I never want to feel this way about anyone:

I'd never thought I could find a set of collarbones so exquisite.

The Farce and The Futility

I've been neglecting this blog.  It's mostly not intentional. Although I did intentionally not post a year end recap.  I worked hard on it.  All year, actually.  I think that's what got the best of me and really spiraled me into some dark stuff. I thought about ending this blog all together.

I've been thinking a lot about finality.  Everything ends.  Everything must.  Most things don't end when they should.  They drag on long past their prime and their usefulness.  The human life span, for example.

I've been hitting the gym a lot again.  Now that I've got a new gym partner in my main man Heather, I've been a lot more active than I thought I'd be with the Ultimate season being dead and gone.  It turns out that I've gained around 18 pounds since I last paid attention to my bathroom scale.  I've weighed within 3 pounds of 145 since high school.  Now I'm up to 160ish.  Looking at me I believe there's no discernible difference other than being more toned.  I'm convinced this is muscle weight. I've been more weight-training focused and will not worry too much about it.  I love how I look it my slim fit button ups. Having a high self image is important, I say.
Whenever I wear suspenders I fantasize about getting into fights because of this scene:

I've been watching a lot of Up All Night.  I love that show.  Especially the episodes when Nick Cannon doesn't make an appearance. It makes me feel okay about being in my 30s.

I've been kicking around and implementing a lot ideas for my radio show.  For one, I've set up an email address for anyone to email me advice column-esque questions that I'll be answering on air.  AskTheGentlemanATgmail.com.  Also I have a new segment called Day Drinkers: The Prude & The Lush with my main man Amber. We'll be sampling and reviewing libations from the perspective of a non-drinking prude (myself) and a more seasoned drinker, to put it politely. This Saturday we'll be sampling Ta Henket.  It should be known that I hate beer.
You can listen in on Saturdays at 1:30pm on GoldenStringRadio.org


I've been listening to a lot of Active Child:

Pompeii

Our parents said the gods were putting an end to it all.  That they'd become fed up with us.  But after the ash stopped falling the skies began to clear and our outlook changed.  Not back to the way it was.  Certainly not that.
While they all surveyed the aftermath and began the long and arduous chore of picking up the pieces we made our way to the coast.  Our feet and ankles bruised from walking over pumice, we climbed up the hillside. When we finally reached the summit, chests heavy and hands filthy with soot, we looked to where Pompeii stood.

It was unrecognizable.

The rumors of my demise...

October happened.  November happened after that.  Those are facts.
They've passed in their normal fashion as they do every year with nary a peep out of me.  I wish I could say that this is due to me being out living life in lieu of documenting it.  That's only partially the case.  Compared to the beginning of the year my life has taken a bit of a turn for the mundane.  I'm not really complaining about this.  There was a bit more excitement previously but I'm in a pretty okay place at the moment although it does feel like a very delicate comfort in a volatile landscape.  As for now I'll enjoy it.  The worry of turbulence only serves to taint those few and far between times of smooth sailing.

I begin to worry when we have an actual full Autumn here in Ohio.  Right now, the day after Thanksgiving, we've had a beautifully temperate Friday with a cloudless sky and high 50s.  We've not had to miss a Sunday of Ultimate Frisbee yet this season and this week looks to be good to go as well.  One more week would mean that we've played straight from May into December.  
I'm an alarmist and spouting off about global warming is normally what I'd be getting at, but taking things as they come is a lesson that I'm learning in my early 30s.  I don't sweat much of anything these days and it's really made a noticeable improvement all around.

I intended to write about what I've been doing in my absence but now that I think of it in context it all seems unremarkable.  I do want to make this blog a bit more personal and tone it down on the reviews and such.  I want to take more pictures and share them.  I haven't been doing that at all these days.
I'd really like to invest in a new camera.

Rob Roy is back!

Or I should say Robert Raimon Roy.  And I, for one, am thankful for the name change because web searches for "Rob Roy" were mostly fruitless unless you were looking for Liam Neeson flicks.

Here's the first single off of the forthcoming album 'Le Tigre Blanc'.
Give it a minute to settle.

So Wavy for you.

Friday Fight (They Say It's Wonderful)

I  heard this song first sung by Englebert Humperdinck off of his 'A Lovely Way To Spend An Evening' album.  I'd purchased it in Toronto, I believe, while in spring break in the early 2000s and it was a major catalyst in my wanting to put together a lounge act.

Vs.

This version was not too recently introduced to me by Bumoltua after we'd found that we were mutually familiar with the song and kicked around the idea of throwing a trite version into our live show. He later sent it to me via email and it's been on various playlists of mine ever since.

Ashford and Simpson

It's been a gross oversight on my part, both on this blog and on my show at GoldenStringRadio.org, not to acknowledge and share condolences for the passing of Mr. Nick Ashford of, arguably the greatest Soul duo of our time, Ashford & Simpson.

I'm really dating myself now but I used to be so amped when this video would come on Video Soul back in the day.  And I didn't really understand why at the time but I came to realize later in life that what it was that they were so good at is making the most inspirational and affirming music without being preachy. It was just universally good 'we got this' music.  The type of music that kept marriages together.  The type of music that kept family reunions festive even under storm clouds.  The type of music that had me dancing on the couch in my Spiderman pajamas each time Donnie Simpson would introduce it.  Plus this mix, exclusive to video version, had the best intro ever with Valerie Simpson's a capella building directly into the chorus. Brilliant.

Here are a couple of my favorite Ashford and Simpson songs:

I share in the grief for the loss of yet another musical icon but more so I celebrate a career that's personally touched my life as well as innumerable others.

Nick Ashford

1941 - 2011

Treme

If after I'm long gone someone decides to make a movie of my life I'd always hoped this song would be appropriate to play over the ending credits:

Speaking of TV on the television, I'm about halfway through the first season of Treme.

I enjoy it a great deal.  A lot of the nuances carry over from The Wire but I was a bit put off because I was waiting for an overt conflict.  Then I realized with Hurricane Katrina being the primary antagonist it opens up a lot of room for the writers to focus on individual characters and it frees up the time for all the 4 minute musical pieces which they've been taking full advantage of and I, for one, couldn't enjoy more.  I can only speculate on the authenticity of the show's portrayal of the struggle of those displaced by the disaster, (based on the opinions of critics of both this show and The Wire the writing staff is heralded for the painstaking research that they do) but the show has certainly made me fall in love with the city as it's principle character.  This being said with the fact that I'd seen it with my own eyes (pre-Katrina) in real life.
It doesn't have me on pins and needles like The Wire did with each episode.  This time around I'm more so just along for a leisurely ride.

The Face Of A New Portugal

She married a resolute man.  Very austere.  Many disgruntled would-be suitors would say underneath their breath, 'That's what she gets.' 'It's her loss.' 'Serves her right.', because they don't see him as she does.  They see the Republican.  The face of a new Portugal.  They see how he walks, not hand in hand with her, but directing her with a stern hand on the small of her back.  They don't see the kisses that he places on her forehead when he leaves each morning.
They see how the boys follow directly behind him, with the most erect of postures.  Never can one say they've seen them shouting or running around even when surrounded by children who are.
They don't get the intimate moments when he's not in the public eye.  On the evening hours in his slacks and bare feet kicked up, reading the gazette to the children.  The way he intently closes his eyes with that first inhale of a fresh cigar.  They've never seen him passionate, which he often is, either with anger or lust which in either event ultimately has the same effect on her.
He could be a furious man.  Never has he been sentimental but she could live with that.  She'd joke with him in the mornings while he shaves about how he had the mustache of a Republican and how cliche it was for him to have such a mustache. He'd laugh his laugh which was a mono-syllabic grunt the way you think of a sleeping elephant to cough.  That was all she'd get out of him because that's how he'd trained himself.  He believed someone of his stature should never be so compromised as to be doubled over in laughter.  He was very restrained.  When they were young they laughed together.  He'd once said that it was her sense of humor that made him love her above all things.  He didn't have that mustache back then.

From her bath she could reach her pruney foot, dripping all the way, and rub the back of his leg.  He liked that.